Healing
by J0j2
Summary: When Spock and Kirk are hurt, there are reflections on why the ship's physician became a healer. Friendship, Nonslash. One shot, K/S/M


Healing

Running through the halls, he feels annoyed by his friend's obsessive self sacrifice for others, but this is blotted out for fear of this friend's life. He also hopes Spock's not in bad condition either.

Briefly, he wonders if sometimes it would be better if Jim would just be logical about these landing parties – and then remembers that _he_ shares the same compassion for humans as captain does and decides to just focus on getting to the transporter.

His heart beats, expecting the worst as the doors fly open. Just as a surgeon should, he doesn't jump when he sees the critical condition the two men on the landing pad are on.

But he does feel scared.

He kneels next to them and takes their pulses as he is filled in on what happened.

Earthquake near top of an underground lava supply. Severe burns and cuts, possible head trauma. Broken limbs are undiagnosed and the doctor hopes that is how they'll remain. They'll find out when they get to sick bay.

He himself calls the stretchers and walks with the two heavily breathing bodies all the way to the bio beds.

The fear of death is what drives him to finish the scans as fast as possible – as it always is. And he's relieved to find out that Spock is only burned and scratched with a small fracture on the wrist.

Vulcan bones, he remarks to no one in particular, are made practically of solid lead.

Soon, Spock is awake and insisting of getting up, of course the doctor is insisting he stay in bed and stop complaining. Spock tells him that Vulcans do not complain.

It's the end of his shift, but McCoy stays in sickbay in the next room over. He's afraid to leave because of how heavily Jim has been injured. His skull is bruised and he has a leg that's almost split in two. They've already casted it, but there are so many burns and scrapes that are infected –

He's scaring himself and needs to stop. He didn't become a physician so he could fear for people's lives. He did it so he could save them.

McCoy decides to go into the main room, where Spock and Jim rest. He pulls up a chair between the beds, and faces the captain. There he sleeps in a hypo induced calm, keeping him from waking up to feel the throbbing pain.

Again, he remembers another reason he became a healer. So he could make people comfortable. He would never want to see friends – or just people in agony. In day to day life outside of the job, the neglected empathic part of him doesn't cry out, but it comes through as much as it needs to from the tips of his fingers as he dresses wounds.

The various instruments and ointments for the captain's burns and scars sit on the table next to him. McCoy reaches and grabs a little tin that contained white crème. With gentle hands he takes some of it and rubs it on a burnt shoulder with great care.

Jim shifts slightly in his sleep and the doctor draws his hand away. It was because James Kirk had so much love for his own kind and the people he serves with that he'd gone down to the planet himself, so no one else would get hurt.

Sometimes McCoy hates him for that – but he can't. He has that same quality, but instead of where Jim is, taking the responsibility for going, he would take up the other end when Jim's decisions_ did _get him hurt.

He notes the ruffled hair atop his friend's usually well groomed head. Normally it's soft and forgiving, now it's matted and sad.

"Doctor?" Came a hoarse but sure voice. "What are you doing?"

McCoy jumps and turns around, startled. "My job. What are you doing?"

"Answering a useless question." Spock retorts.

"You're supposed to be asleep, Spock. And don't give me hooey about how you can't sleep because I know that Vulcans can force their own subconscious."

"I was not intending to." He sounds offended.

"Then why are you up?"

Spock turns his head away. "I wanted to make sure you were taking proper care of yourself."

The answer had caught him off guard. "Oh. Well, I'm fine, Spock. You and Jim are the ones who are lucky to be alive."

"I am aware of that, but when you have patients in critical condition, you do not provide yourself with the rest and nourishment as you need."

"Spock, I appreciate you looking out for me, but I'm fine." He puts the tin back on the stand. "Get some sleep."

"You also must get some sleep."

"Who's the doctor?"

"You are not being much of a doctor to yourself."

McCoy meets his eyes.

"I'll get some sleep if you do, Spock."

"Agreed."

He steps out into his office. There is no way he is going to be able to sleep. He would stay here for the night and make sure that they were okay. He'd had nightmares about those who'd been carried into sickbay and never walked their way out.

Too often in his dreams those patients were Spock and Jim.

Casting his eyes downward on to the paperwork in front of him, he sighs. He had become a healer so that he could help people who needed it most. His hands never quivered, never shook or wavered. They had to be still as stone, surgeon's hands. This is where he rested his head as he waited through the night, walking in occasionally to check on his sleeping friends.

They are both so peaceful, his two companions. Spock's voice echoes in his head.

And he was right. He needed to get sleep. They would be fine and in the morning he'd be ready once again. McCoy never took care of himself the way he needed to, and he felt touched that Spock had reached out to his _doctor _to make sure the healer himself was alright.

His eyes close on steady hands and the three friends share the same quiet slumber. Everything was going to be okay, McCoy would make sure of that. He was a healer, and he would heal them.

A/N: Thanks for reading this lil ficlet. :D Reviews are appreciated.


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